“Well, indeed, sir, money is tight,--mighty tight, at this time. Old M'Cabe of the lottery office wouldn't advance three hundred to Lord Arthur St. Aubin without the family plate, and I saw the covered dishes going in myself.” “I wish _I_ had family plate,” sighed Sewell. “So you will yet, please God,” said the other, piously. “His Lordship can't live forever! But jewels is as good,” resumed he, after a slight pause. “I have just as much of the one as the other, O'Reardon. They were a sort of scrip I never invested in.” “It is n't a bad thing to do, after all. I remember poor Mr. Giles Morony saying one day, 'I dined yesterday, Tom,' says he, 'off one of my wife's ear-rings, and I never ate a better dinner in my life; and with the blessing of Providence I'll go drunk to bed off the other to-night.'” “Was n't he hanged afterwards for a murder?” “No, sir,--sentenced, but never hanged. Mr. Wallace got him off on a writ of error. He was a most agreeable man. Has Mrs. Sewell any trinkets of value, sir?” “I believe not--I don't know--I don't care,” said he, angrily; for the subject, as an apropos, was scarcely pleasant. “Any one at the office since I left?” asked he, with a twang of irritation still in his tone. “That ould man I tould your honor about called three times.” “You told me nothing of any old man.” “I wrote it twice to your honor since I saw you, and left the letters here myself.” “You don't think I break open letters in such handwriting as yours, do you? Why, man, my table is covered with them. Who is the old man you speak of?” “Well, sir, that's more than I know yet; but I 'll be well acquainted with all about him before a week ends, for I knew him before and he puzzled me too.” “What's his business with me?” “He would not tell. Indeed, he's not much given to talk. He just says, 'Is Colonel Sewell here?' and when I answer, 'No, sir,' he goes on, 'Can you tell the day or the hour when I may find him here?' Of course I say that your honor might come at any moment,--that your time is uncertain, and such-like,--that you 're greatly occupied with the Chief Baron.” “What is he like? Is he a gentleman?” “I think he is,--at least he was once; for though his clothes is not new and his boots are patched, there's a look about him that common people never have.” “Is he short or tall? What is he like?” Just as Sewell had put this question they had gained the door of the little sitting-room, which lay wide open, admitting a full view of the interior. “Give me some notion of his appearance, if you can.” “There he is, then,” cried O'Reardon, pointing to the chalk head over the chimney. “That's himself, and as like as life.” “What? that!” exclaimed Sewell, clutching the man's arm, and actually shaking him in his eagerness. “Do you mean that he is the same man you see here?” “I do indeed, sir. There's no mistaking him. His beard's a little longer than the picture, and he's thinner, perhaps; but that's the man.”